The Black Forest
by Oriana de la Rose
Summary: The Black Forest holds a dark secret.....one that Edward knows about. Then a girl stumbles upon his isolated existence, a girl that he has an inexplicable attraction towards although they have never met. AH/OOC. M for Dark Smut.


**So,****this came in 3rd place for bronzehairedgirl620 and Leon McFrenchington's "Off The Page" contest!!!!!!!! :D**

**And PLEASE treat this as a fairy tale. If you do, it will make things a lot more understandable. :D**

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**Edward – The Beast**

The full moon hung high in the sky, the forest dark and empty around me. Fall was cold and froze my fingertips, its icy air burning my lungs. The moonbeams fell on my scarred face, harsh and unforgiving.

I had heard something, I was sure of it. Footsteps. The snap of a twig, the brush of skin against briars. I looked into the forest, dark with night. The trees were tall and thin, as pale white as bleached bone.

I waited for a moment, straining my ears. Then I turned back and strode into the tiny cottage in which I had lived since the day I was born. Slamming the door behind me, I sat back down in front of the hearth, staring into the crackling flames. As I stoked the fire, my eyes lingered on my bare arms – marred by thick scars, pink and long, white and paper-thin.

The scars given to me by my father.

The memories of my past haunted me, the sins I had committed. I had grown up motherless and with a father who was determined to punish me for my every sin. My scars were evidence of my unholy nature.

A hot ember landed on my palm and I winced. Suddenly, abruptly, I was pushed back into my memories to when my father had caught me pleasuring myself when I was only thirteen. Disgust had been etched over his face, revulsion. He had grabbed me viciously by the hair and yanked me into the cottage. Then, he took the carving knife in his hand, smashing my face down onto the tiny table where we ate.

"Never touch yourself in such a disgusting manner," he had growled as I screamed and begged in fear. He pressed the tip of the knife into my cheek and I felt the sting of the blade as it sank into my young flesh. "You never learn, do you?" my father had hissed, moving the knife down to the arc of my jaw, slicing open the skin. "You continue to sin!" he screamed in my ear. "You make me do this to you; why won't you fucking learn?"

Now I sat alone in my dead father's cottage. He had not been alive to carve my worst sin into my skin, for he had been bleeding on the floor. My father was buried in the ground under the juniper tree behind the cottage, under three feet of decaying soil.

It had been laborious dragging him out to the juniper tree, the crimson blood staining the cursed forest ground. We had always lived alone, father and I, deep in the Black Forest. Essentially hermits.

But then I had sank the carving knife into his heart while he slept. I had been only twenty at the time I had committed patricide, terrified that I would sin badly enough that he would sink the knife so deeply into my belly that he would gut me, spilling my entrails.

I growled and threw the hot poker against the wall, still feeling the terror that had haunted me as a child under my father's always watchful stare. Then I heard something again in the forest. I froze, my eyes turning to my window where I only saw the fireplace reflected in the dark glass. There it was again – the frightened scuffling of feet and the panting for breath. Slowly, I walked to my door, putting my hand on the cold brass knob.

I opened the door a crack, a long slice of firelight spilling onto the ground outside my cottage. The forest outside my cottage was as sinister at night as it was in daylight.

A bone-chilling scream split the air soon followed by a vicious snarl, animalistic.

A girl burst out of the bone-colored trees encroaching on my cottage, her eyes wide with pure terror and her hair streaming behind her. Blood poured from a deep wound above her eyebrow, the bright liquid running down her face and throat, staining her torn clothing. Behind her loomed a wolf, mouth open and eyes crazed with hunger. Blood dripped from his teeth, a thin shred of flesh dangling.

"Oh God, help me!" she screamed, racing towards me, frantic.

Without thinking, I pushed her roughly into my cottage and closed my fingers over the handle of the ax I kept beside the front door. The girl crashed into the table in which I had endured countless scar carvings. The wolf launched itself at me, too hungry to be picky who its meal was. I swung the ax and lodged the blade into the delicate fur-covered skin just under its jaw. The ax sank deep into the wolf's skull, penetrating its brain.

It howled in pain for the split second before the ax split the wolf's brain. It collapsed on the ground, blood seeping from the wound.

My heart raced and I took a deep breath before I pulled the ax from the wolf's skull. The life-sustaining crimson liquid gushed from the exposed wound, staining the decaying leaves.

A twig snapped deep in the recesses of the forest.

I stepped into the cottage and quickly slammed the door behind me. There were too many things in the forest that roamed after dark. I felt more comfortable with the dead bolt snapped into place.

Turning towards her, I forgot to hide my face. She clung to the top of the table, the fire casting a warm glow over her flawless skin, her chocolate hair shining. She gasped for breath, her chest heaving.

The girl's eyes were wide with horror as she looked upon my marred face.

**Bella – The Beauty**

The scars varied in length and severity, ranging from small to truly gruesome. His skin was pale, making the scars seem truly terrifying as they tinged a rose color. He had full, sensual lips, unmarred, and deep green eyes – unnaturally green. His hair hung slightly over his forehead, hiding some of the marks.

The man had been beautiful once, that was obvious. But the raised lines on his face and throat destroyed any chance he might now have of beauty. I stared with wonder and horror, unable to pull my eyes away. Fascination soon overcame my fear and I was surprised to realize that I wanted to touch the jagged and smooth lines of his scars.

I could not imagine what could cause such deliberate disfigurement.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he demanded in a voice that was melted chocolate yet sharp as a rapier.

My eyes moved to the ax that he gripped tightly in his hands. The metal head glinted in the fire's glow, blood dripping onto the cottages floorboards and hair matted to the congealing blood.

Terror sparked through me and I shrank back on the table. This man was just like all the things I had seen in the forest. Cruel, vicious, hungry. What was he going to do to me now that he had me trapped? Thousands of visions of my death flashed in my mind, each more terrifying than the last.

He watched me as I tried to move away from him.

"What are you _doing_ here?" he insisted, his voice rising. He walked towards me and pulled me roughly to my feet.

"I don't _know_!" I cried weakly, pulling away. I stumbled, pain blossoming within me like a blood-red lily. My clothing was in tatters, revealing the soft underside of my right breast and hung in shreds off of me.

Abruptly he took me by the shoulders and pushed me back through a doorway.

Terrified, I twisted out of his grip and tried to dark under his arm back into the safety of the front room, but he grabbed me by the hair and slammed me against the wall.

"You're going to bleed to death if you don't stop it and let me lead you to the bathroom!" he yelled.

I gasped, unsure of what to think. "How do I know you're not as bad as some of those things out there?" I panted, my voice cracking.

"Because I'm trying to _help _you."

His marred face was inches from mine, the leaf-green eyes filling my vision. His eyes were fervent with honesty, so bright they were almost feverish. The pain grew, covering my fear and uncertainty like a wool blanket in the summer. My legs quivered under my weight, a sharp pain lancing through my thigh.

My hands searched frantically for something to hold on to before I fell. I clutched wildly for anything, and my hands found soft strands. I held on tightly and fought back the dizziness that was washing over me.

Then I blacked out.

**Edward – The Beast**

Swiftly her eyes clouded over with pain, and I knew that if I had any intention of keeping her alive I had to clean and patch her wounds. Frantically her fingers knotted in my hair as she pressed herself against me. Before I had time to be shocked, she collapsed, her body falling limp.

I quickly swung her up into my arms, my right arm under her bent knees and my left cradling her head. I kept my eyes away from the revealing patches of exposed skin that her clothing revealed and went into the bathroom. For a moment, I stood, unsure. This girl was filthy dirty and any kind of soil inside her wounds would cause infection.

Hesitating no longer, I laid her gently in the bathtub and began to cut off her clothes. I would give her some of my clothing after she was free of all filth. My hands lingered over her breasts, pale and full, the nipples a dark pink. Brushing my fingers over the dark nipple, I watched as it hardened to a taut peak. The skin was silky soft, making my fingers ache to touch more of her. Then I removed her ripped skirt and shoes, dropping them to the floor beside me. Vaguely I wondered why she had not been wearing any underwear.

I ran warm water to fill the bath, using a soapy cloth to run over her skin. The girl had what appeared to be a shallow puncture wound on her upper thigh – most likely from the wolf's teeth and a minor head wound that bled profusely. Staunching the bleeding from her forehead, I took care of the puncture wound.

I was running my fingers over the soft flesh between her legs when she awoke.

She gasped, her eyes snapping open. The warm water didn't cover her body, only two or three inches deep. Her dark eyes glanced fearfully around.

"It's alright," I murmured softly. "Don't be afraid."

I didn't pull my hand away from her. Mesmerized by the feel of her sex, I ran my fingertip over the folds. Immediately I felt a thick wetness drip from her and her body arched almost unwillingly.

"No," she gasped, looking at my face with frightened eyes that were slightly hazy with desire. "Please don't touch me."

I pushed my finger inside her core, her hot wet walls clenching around my digit. "Why not?" I curled my finger inside her.

The girl's hands clutched the edge of the tub, her back arching as if a string was attached to her breasts, pulling her upwards. A strangled moan left her lips and her hips lifted from the shallow water.

"Please," she panted. "Not you."

I glared down at her. "Not me? Why not me?" I demanded, already knowing the answer.

"Your . . . your face," she managed.

Of course, my face. She didn't want someone like me touching her, despite the way her body reacted. Anger at my father surged through me – he had given me these scars – and then fury at myself and this girl soon followed. I remembered my father's words, how he had told me again and again that people from the outside world would not like me, that they would try to hurt me. For years I had believed him, knowing that my scars made me different from others, made me a monster.

My eyes blazing, I viciously thrust another finger deep into her, up to my knuckle. She gasped, her eyes rolling back and a deep groan of ecstasy filled the room. I began to pump her so roughly it was almost brutal and watched her body respond, sweat covering her skin in a light sheen, her knuckles white as she gripped the lip of the tub.

"Does my face repulse you?" I asked cruelly, coldly. "Is it so disgusting that you can't bear to think that it's my scarred fingers inside you?" I pulled out of her then and she whimpered in protest. I pinched her nub and watched smugly as she writhed.

"Ohhh," she moaned then, her eyes cloudy. "Please don't stop. Oh god, don't stop."

Slowly, I slide both my index finger and middle finger into her moist head. She spasmed around me in pleasure, moaning as her breasts heaved. I curled the digits inside her and thrust them viciously back into her.

She cried out weakly, her voice faltering as her eyes clenched shut.

Pulling my fingers out of her, I looked at her for a moment. "Get on your hands and knees in the tub," I ordered. I wondered if she would obey me, if her need was so strong that she would do whatever I asked. Smugly, I watched as she slowly turned, moving so that she supported her body weight with her hands and knees. The water fell off her body and into the already filthy water, the dirt congealing thickly on the surface of the water. When I didn't immediately move, she looked edgily up at me.

"Well," she prompted irritably.

"You're an impatient one, aren't you?" I said rhetorically, brushing my fingers down her spine. I watched with satisfaction as chill bumps burst over her skin. A small smirk tugged at my lips as I remembered how quickly she had changed her mind, how much she still wanted me to touch her. "Now tell me, what is your name?"

I brought my hand down to caress the underside of her ass cheeks, watching her muscles tighten in anticipation for something that wasn't going to come any time soon. A small moan filled the tub as her hair grazed the dirty water.

"Are you going to answer me or am I going to have to force it from you?" I asked, my voice tight.

I was unused to being around people. I had been alone for over a decade now, the forest creatures my only neighbors. And this girl infuriated me for reasons I wasn't yet accustomed to. I wanted to make her talk, to make her tell me the things I wanted to know. But I somehow sensed that if I used force, she would refuse to tell me even more than if I had gently inquired it from her.

And then there was the feeling of a woman's flesh. For years, I had wondered what it would be like to touch a female of my own kind. For years I had dreamt of pleasure. Father had had an encyclopedia, volume after volume of information that I would soak up. That and the very brief discussion of puberty was the only exposure I had to sex, aside from watching animals breed. And now I was touching a woman of extreme beauty. To say that my hands didn't tremble would have been a lie; to say that I didn't want to explore every inch and crevice of her body would have been a lie of an even larger magnitude. I was curious of the workings and openings of her body. Of course I knew scientifically why they were there and what they looked like, but to be so close to an unclothed woman made my heart quicken and my hands move slightly faster.

"My name is Bella," she said quietly, her voice slightly hoarse.

"Thank you," I muttered almost sarcastically, continuing my exploration of her. When I brushed the insides of her thighs, she moved her legs farther apart. She seemed to know more than me of the ways of love, seemed to know exactly how to react and what to do. "Have you made love before?" I asked.

She was silent for a moment and I wondered if she blushed. "No," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "But I'm not ignorant."

Well, I thought sourly, at least one of us isn't. What with my extensive scarring, no woman would ever want to touch me or for me to touch them. I was a monster, a repulsive, disgusting carcass that lived deep the forest. The scarred hermit.

Moving my fingers between her legs, I lightly brushed over her sex once again. She moaned softly and pushed her hips back into me. She was so moist, and so incredibly hot. Her folds were a sweet organ I wanted to suck and taste, to scrape my teeth over and pinch between my fingers. I sank my fingers once again into her and her walls clenched around the digit tightly, a vice-grip. I hardened in my trousers, my cock straining against the constricting fabric. Looking at her flawless skin, I realized that we were two completely different creatures – I the beast and she the beauty. I moved my thumb roughly over her clitoris, a low groan leaving her lips, the sound nearly animalistic in its abandon.

"Oh please," she begged, her voice cracking. Inserting another finger into her tight flesh, I thrust them up into her. She gasped, her muscles tightening in her body. Her hips jerked and then pushed back into me, beginning to move them in a circular motion.

"Don't move," I ordered, my voice husky with unreleased desire. "You move and I will stop," I warned.

She was still. Then I viciously pulled her thighs further apart and she nearly slipped, falling a little into the water. She was spread open for me now, her legs pushed apart. Replacing my fingers over her folds, I brushed their sensitive edges, feeling them twitch as her muscles alternately tightened and loosened. A thick drop landed on my palm from her dripping sex. The aroma of her arousal was thick and musky as it curled softly in the air, causing my pants to tighten more than they had already been. She was gasping, her breasts hanging like over-ripe pears ideal for plucking and consuming. I wondered if the skin would be as sweet as the fruit under my tongue, if it was possible to be addicted to the taste of a woman's flesh. If so, I was fast becoming an addict.

"Oh God, please," she begged, still unmoving.

The sound of her begging me was so erotic that I couldn't help what I did next. I undid my trousers and slowly pulled out my engorged member. I stroked myself as I sank my fingers deeply into her, savagely pumping her. She cried out, almost a scream, and arched her back. I didn't care if she moved now – watching her sexual reactions only increased the quickly building pleasure in me. Her hands were tightened into fists on the floor of the tub and her hair hung in a curtain around her face, blocking me from seeing the way her features would contort in ecstasy.

I curled my hand around myself, bringing it up slowly, letting my nails scrape all the way to the head. I hissed quietly, quickening both of my hands.

"Yes, oh yes," she whispered, her voice hoarse. Her hips pushed back into my hand. "Faster, please," she panted.

I was no longer gentle. All semblance of kindness was gone, my mind no longer in control of my actions. My body reacted unthinkingly and I didn't stop to wonder if I would hurt this virgin girl in my bathtub. I plunged my fingers harder into her. Her legs trembled and I hoped vaguely that she wouldn't slip. My hand was rough on my member, jerking myself. I gritted my teeth, my eyes closing a little.

She screamed as her walls clamped down on my fingers but I didn't stop. I _couldn't_ stop. Her body loosened as she came down from her high and immediately seized up again because I continued to ram my fingers into her. I felt a warm liquid trickle down my hand from her folds, different from the thick feel of her juices, but I paid no heed to it. With a savageness that was only present in animals, I pumped her and myself, my hips bucking up into my hand. I could tell from her heaving breasts and ragged pants that Bella was close once again

"Fuck," I growled, my eyes clenching shut. Abruptly, I climaxed violently, cumming my hand. The evidence of my release running down my arm. Quickly I pulled my fingers out of her and washed off the liquid in the sink. She groaned impatiently and I turned back to her, my member already softening.

"Why did you stop?" she demanded, looking towards me as she still held herself up by her hands and knees. I watched as her breasts swung gently from her movement, the nipples pink and erect. Her eyes met mine and she paused, letting them roam freely over my scarred features. I expected to see revulsion and horror dawn over her face like a sunrise I never hoped to see, but instead all she showed was curiosity. Curiosity because she had just received an orgasm from a horribly marred man who was both brooding and cruel.

If she only knew that the scars were not only on my face and arms but running the length of my body, for I had sinned many times in the twenty years that father had been alive to account for my sins.

Her dark brown eyes turned to mine with unconcealed curiosity and dislike – she did not like being left uncomfortable and unsatisfied.

"How have you come to be in this forest?" I asked harshly, moving to give her a towel. "Tell me." I pulled one off of the rack by the sink. It was large and clean from yesterday's wash.

"I . . . my parents . . . we were starving," she finally began. "There wasn't enough for us to eat so my mother left my brother and I in the forest, hoping we would never find our way out. My brother was torn apart by the same wolf that you killed." Her voice broke, tears leaking down her cheeks. "I tried to run. I saw a light in the woods and ran towards it – your cottage."

Bella turned to me. She looked so incredibly vulnerable then – just a child really – that pity flowered inside me. This girl did not deserve to be abandoned in the woods by her family, unwanted because there wasn't enough food to feed neither her nor her brother. I wondered what his name had been but I didn't want to ask and bring up painful memories again.

"What is your age?" I asked gently, handing the thick white towel.

She stood up shakily, the water cascading down her young skin. Unable to turn away, I watched as a drop of water slid over her breast and down her stomach to the dark patch of hair between her legs. Her body was nearly flawlessly formed with a small, flat waist and slightly curving hips. Her skin was pale but had a golden sheen from the light, her dripping hair hanging to her waist.

"I am eighteen."

When I looked back into her eyes I knew that she had been watching me as I stared at her. She knew I was looking yet she made no move to cover herself.

Eighteen.

She was fourteen years my junior.

Deep inside me, something awakened, rising up. Her skin was pale and soft – so unlike my own – and her hair was wet, thick, and dark. Quietly she wrapped the towel around herself. The large towel covered her easily, reaching to just above her knees. She had slim legs and delicate feet, each toe perfectly shaped. I wondered if there had been any woman lovely enough to rival this girl's beauty. Or maybe it was simply the fact that I had never set eyes on a woman, had never touched one, that made me think she was exceptionally beautiful.

But no. Looking at her heart-shaped face once more, I decided that it wasn't simply the fact that she was the first woman I had seen. Bella truly was exceedingly lovely, with large dark eyes and full lips. And yet she was trapped with me, a horrific beast who could not even stand the sight of his own reflection.

Then, as if something in me snapped, I stood up and walked out of the bathroom.

The wolf was still outside the door, his body already beginning to decompose due to the abnormal qualities of this forest. Maggots were crawling throughout the dead flesh, white and thick and they gorged themselves. Gritting my teeth, I cursed myself for leaving fresh meat out to rot for even less than an hour. There was no way I could gut and clean the carcass – it was already infested.

Dragging it behind the cottage to the juniper tree, I felt the fur under my hands move with maggots and other insects. As I pulled it, the fur began to flake off along with patches of skin.

The juniper tree stood elegantly, only slightly taller than me, as the thin, spidery branches reached out like a woman reached for her lover. Its limbs were bare of any leaves and the trunk of the tree was twisted, the bark smooth from its abnormal growth. The roots reached up out of the earth to trip unwary trespassers and I carefully avoided the dangerous footholds.

I dropped the wolf at the base of the tree and watched as the roots curled around the lank body, pulling it down into the ground. The juniper tree pulled the carcass into the dark, fertile soil, consuming the body inch by inch, the roots tearing the wolf to shreds beneath the surface of the earth.

No, nothing was average in the Black Forest. It amazed me that the girl in my home had even survived this long.

The juniper tree had only been a simple plant before father's death. But when I had buried his corpse beneath its roots, the tree had come alive.

Perhaps my father's soul had still been clinging to his body when I buried him beneath the tree. Perhaps father's soul had entered the juniper's wood willingly. But whatever what it happened, father was now the juniper tree. They had melded into one being, one in each other.

Blood dripped from the tree bark like sap. The limbs curled slightly to me, as if trying to brush my skin – trying to slice my flesh once more for trapping him in the confines of the bark. The resentment nearly rolled off the juniper in waves. But I had not believed when I buried him that this would happen. I hadn't known. I could say it wasn't my fault and that it was an accident, but the juniper tree would still abhor me, my father would still detest me.

Slowly, I turned back to the cottage. Through the window I saw her walk into the front room wearing the towel. Her hair curled slightly, still dripping, her eyes moving around the walls, taking in the sights of my home. I wondered what would happen when I returned to her and she saw my face again. Suddenly, I wished that the forest's enchanted nature would extend to my features so that I would no longer be hideous.

Then I walked back to the cottage, turning my back on the juniper tree in which my father's soul was trapped.

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**Thank you so much everyone for reading, I hope you enjoyed it. Again, this came in 3rd place out of 34 entries!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I think it's amazing. :D**

**-Oriana**


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